


On Distant Shores

by Authorship



Series: A Tulip For Your Smile [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Kirigakure | Hidden Mist Village, M/M, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorship/pseuds/Authorship
Summary: Orochimaru knew wrong. Had traversed such paths with the ease of familiarity, had murdered and harmed like one breathed (-such was the life of a shinobi, a Sannin-)Until the world burned and immortality meant nothing.Haku - for his part - would learn that, for all the fierceness of a honed weapon, the human heart could inflict infinite more damage.(But, maybe, it would prove worth it)





	On Distant Shores

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRayneAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRayneAlchemist/gifts).



 

The woods were quiet. Not in an unnerving way, with bated breath and a hidden predator poised to pounce, but peaceful. The birds were restful in the branches above his head, the babbling stream reduced to the occasional _plop_ of a fish’s tail breaking the surface. Even the piercing afternoon sunlight, just high enough in the sky to blind, was softened, filtering through the sprawling canopy and warming what skin it managed to touch.

 

The earth was a little damp beneath him, not quite enough to wet his robe but enough to feel the cool press of grass through the many folding layers. Then again, in these regions, nothing was ever truly dry.

 

Dragonflies, an extremely common sight here that Haku had missed on their travels, fluttered above the water, iridescent in the amber light. A few wavered inches above the lazy water, more lingering by the long grass and one or two daring closer to the nin’s restful spot.

 

Careful, Haku unclasped his hands and, curling all but his forefinger into the soft tissue of his palm, raised a hand towards the lovely little things. His hand was steady as marble, a result of a decade of practising his senbon and wires. He scarcely dared breathe, lip caught between teeth as he waited.

 

The dragonfly did not approach but, seeing as it had yet to flee also, Haku kept his pose.

 

Seconds ticked by, marked only by Haku’s shallow breaths and the lapping of the water. He wondered if it would tickle; if he’d even feel the weight of the tiny creature.

 

Maybe there was a dragonfly summoning contract, out there, somewhere. He wasn't exactly sure how that would work with his ice but he couldn't help imaging such lovely things. The glimmer of delicate wings and the sparkle of ice.

 

Zabuza-sama would probably appreciate a more ferocious, or altogether useful, companion for him. The thoughts painted a lovely image, regardless, and Haku allowed himself this moment to appreciate uncomplicated beauty.

 

A snake nudged his foot.

 

His hand didn’t so much as twitch, dark eyes flicking down to survey the intruder, but the moment was broken and the dragonfly darted away to the safety of the water.

 

The snake, a lovely little poisonous green viper, flicked her tongue against Haku’s exposed ankle in hello and Haku obediently lifted her into his lap.

 

“Zabuza-sama would drown you if he sees,” the ice nin murmured, tracing light fingers from her small triangular head to the tip of her striped tail.

 

“She swims rather well,” A smooth voice, so faintly amused it was almost imperceptible, carried across the stream as a taller figure stepped from between the pale trees. Sandaled feet, pale and bony, brushed the water's edge but did not cross. The brook was only small, scarcely two metres across, and the backlight of afternoon light cast the older nin’s face into soft shadow.

 

Haku rose from the grass, his damp yukata clinging slightly to the curve of his calves, and shifted the little viper to the crook of his arm. “Orochimaru-sama, you’ve returned safely,” a small, but nonetheless genuine, smile quirked his lips. He was glad.

 

“Indeed,” the Snake summoner replied, casting golden eyes around Haku’s small clearing. “How have you fared, Haku-kun?” He dipped his chin at the younger man’s herb basket set off to the side, forgotten in favour of dragonfly watching. “Are you replenishing those marvellous poultices of yours?”

 

Haku felt his cheeks warm slightly at the recognition, scooping to pick up said basket and stepping onto the water. “Hai, Orochimaru-sama...Zabuza-sama intends to leave tomorrow.”

 

Accepting the offered snake, who curled happily around her Master’s wrist with easy familiarity, Orochimaru turned and began picking his way between the trees. His expression was largely unmoved but, running knowing eyes over the line of his sharp shoulders, Haku noted the slight tensing. “Indeed, so soon? Is he so desperate to keep you from my tutelage?”

 

Haku’s lips parted, a denial on the tip of his tongue. _Zabuza-sama wouldn-_

 

He was cut off by a throaty chuckle, low and velvet and ironic. Pale lips quirked, somehow managing to convey sarcasm.

 

A little lost, Haku kept quiet.

 

His Master’s relationship with the Snake Summoner was a...complicated one.

 

Zabuza-sama was a man of pride in his ability to kill and he’d taken Haku under his wing with a vicious steadfastness that had ensured Haku’s undying loyalty for the rest of his life. He owed everything to the Sword Master.

 

But then, there was Orochimaru-sama.

 

An equally skilled shinobi and brilliant scientist, he’d been a defining figure in Kiri before Haku had even been born. He’d arrived at the ‘academy’ with his summons already...the only survivor of Zabuza-sama’s legendary massacre.

 

In some way, Haku wondered if his Master had ever forgiven the older man for that. _The one that got away_ , one could say.

 

After the terrible slaughterings when Haku had been a child, the purges that orphaned him, it had been Orochimaru-sama who’d torn through Kiri like a terrible storm. The sea had _raged_ that night, immortalised in his young memory with unfading clarity. He’d never forget the great white serpents that had risen through the mist like sea monsters unleashed upon the land. Poised against the tide upon one huge head, Orochimaru-sama’s thin, purple-clad figure had borne down on the blood-soaked society like an avenging God. The only light that night had been from the glow of Mei-sama’s lava, which had burned a trail through the streets. The city had had to be rebuilt, seared from the onslaught; the village transformed in every way after the… the _revolution._

 

If Orochimaru-sama had been the sea, Mei-sama had been a volcanic eruption and, where the two had met, the land had been remade.

 

The swordsmen had rallied like they hadn't in years, fighting as one under the purpled sky and Haku, a child who’d already soaked his hands in blood for survival, had stared.

 

He was Zabuza-sama’s apprentice but his fascination with the Mizukage’s right hand was shared with almost all of his fellow shinobi.

 

(Mei-sama was a fearsome leader but...Haku would never forget how Orochimaru-sama had cut through the naysayers like a senbon, precise and effortless. He may not have taken the hat but he certainly could have.)

 

When he’d bumped into the mysterious man in the marshes, not unlike today, his knees had trembled.

 

But Orochimaru-sama was a soft-spoken man, in a way. In the seven or so years since their first meeting, Haku had yet to hear him truly raise his voice. He didn’t have to; he moved to speak and all fell silent in anticipation.

 

Orochimaru-sama was also...content.

 

Content in a way that Haku hadn’t known possible until he’d met him face to face. Haku had thought for a long time that Shinobi were tools, and, yes, he was at Zabuza-sama’s disposal always, but the Snake Summoner seemed to find...joy in this life.

 

He could tear into Kisame-sama, his favourite sparring partner by far, and then delicately sip tea with the Shark Summoner half an hour later.

 

Pale fingers brushed flowers and herbs as he walked past, simply for the sake of the touch. He read books in quiet spaces and painted beautiful calligraphy in his journals and owned the most breathtaking collection of ornate teapots Haku had ever seen, akin to those of Daimyos. His lab, something he'd yet to have the honour to enter, was said to be the pinnacle of advancement in all the Elemental Nations.

 

(Maybe it was exaggerated...maybe it wasn't.)

 

There was a smoothness to his brow, to the lines around his mouth, that spoke of genuine peace.

 

It made Haku wonder.

 

In contrast, Zabuza-sama was a Wild Thing, always ready and willing to traverse dangerous paths with nought but his blade and Haku at his back. He rarely stayed in the village for any longer than it took to replenish his supplies, check in with his fellow Swordsmen, and accept his latest mission.

 

They were two sides of the same coin, to Haku’s eyes. Both of them terrifying, one under a veneer of grace and the other basked in bloodlust.

 

It was hugely embarrassing, therefore, that Haku himself seemed to be the sticking point between them. Or, rather, the most obvious one.

 

“There is a situation in Wave that Mizukage-sama is keen to address,” Haku demurred, half a step behind the much taller man. Orochimaru-sama was slim, with long, bony fingers and sharp cheekbones, but he was not a small man. His hair, a sheet of black ink down his back, swept over his shoulder when he turned to quirk a sculpted brow at Haku.

 

“And your Master is keen to feast upon mobsters? Oh dear.”

 

Haku blinked, glancing down in amusement. Zabuza-sama _was_ keen to, in his own words, ‘cut down the snivelling bastards’, but Orochimaru-sama didn’t need to know that.

 

The tree line broke before them, woodland opening up into paths and training fields. A few shinobi were scattered here, mainly Genin doing some target practice under the sharp scrutiny of their sensei’s, but no one bothered them as they continued towards the Village itself.

 

Before they could move onto the cobbled streets, Orochimaru-sama now quietly lecturing him on the various properties of mistletoe, they were interrupted by the arrival of Hoshigaki Kisame-sama. The shark-like shinobi landed in a low crouch before them, palm braced flat to the ground before he blurred upright. He was dressed in casual training clothes, Samehada in its usual place across his back, and arms bare besides the sparring tape around his hands.

 

“Orochimaru,” sharp teeth flashed in what was probably intended to be a smile, grey cheeks stretched and dimpling the gills high on his cheekbones. “Barely back and already stealing away another apprentice? What, no time for old friends?”

 

Purple lids slid half shut in resigned amusement. “Petty is not pretty, Kisame-kun.”

 

Haku hid a smile in the curve of his hand.

 

“Tracking you down after every mission is also made redundant by your inevitable ability to find me,” Orochimaru-sama continued, sweeping a hand behind Haku’s back to continue their walk, Kisame-sama matching their pace on his other side.

 

Kisame-sama let that truth slide with a rolling shrug of his shoulders. “Have you seen Mei-chan yet?”

 

The two men shared a glance. Haku subtly shifted the basket in the crook of his arm, the wicker somehow managing to dig in through the layers.

 

“Something to tell me, Kisame-kun?”

 

Those dimples, three in each cheek, made another appearance. “Nothing more than usual.”

 

The paler nin exhaled through his nose, as close to a snort as Haku thought he was able. “I expect Mei-chan would appreciate a meal?” Kisame rumbled out a deep chuckle and nodded, “Then I’ll be over shortly. Haku-kun?”

 

Haku blinked when focus suddenly shifted back to him.

 

“I’ll leave you here but if I do not see you before Zabuza-kun departs...happy hunting.”

 

The ice nin smiled, lips parting to show his teeth for the barest second. “Thank you, Orochimaru-sama. Kisame-sama,” he ducked his head and stepped back.

 

“Later kid!”

 ................................................................................................

 

Mei was, as Orochimaru had expected, elbow deep in paperwork when he swept into the office.

 

Paperwork which she promptly threw away at the sight of him.

 

“Oro-kun, tell me that’s food-”

 

Bloodless lips curled into a tolerant smile as he set the takeaway box onto the cluttered desk. “Fresh shrimp, Mizukage-sama.”

 

A pond-green eye rolled, glancing up at him through her heavy fringe, even as she tore into the packaging like sharks in bloody water. “Oh tush, lunch _and_ honorifics? Did the mission bore you so completely?”

 

Aia, still happily coiled around his wrist, flickered her tongue at the spicy scent of the fish and he ran soothing fingers across her smooth scales in a silent promise to feed her later. “Diplomacy is a tiresome game-” Orochimaru allowed his gaze to dance across the endless stacks of paperwork around them, “-wouldn’t you say?”

 

Mei puffed out a breath, fringe flicking away from her eye for a second. “Touché. Report?”

 

His feet carried him to the nearest window, looking out on the overcast skies for a long second. It would surely rain again before nightfall, the sun already swallowed by the rolling mist. “Ame is as desolate as expected, hardly changed since our last visit, but I sensed Jiraiya’s hand in the slow rebuild.”

 

Mei tapped her long nails on the wood of the desk. “Is it enough to extend talks?”

 

Orochimaru turned from the window, tucking his hands into the long sleeves of his over-robe as the evening chill threatened to set into his bones. He was so easily cold here, just like the very snakes he summoned. So very different from the sprawling heat of Konoha a lifetime ago. “Not yet. Let them pick up the pieces first...they may yet make something of themselves but we do not want to interfere too quickly, lest the cards fall around us… so to speak.”

 

“Did you meet him?”

 

“No.”

 

At his curt tone, Mei tactfully abandoned that line.

 

“How did they receive you?”

 

“Warily.”

 

Mei inclined her head, fiery hair shifting over her shoulder like a heavy curtain. “Expected, considering your reputation.”

 

“Hmm, indeed...what news from Suna, since I left?”

 

Mei jerked her chin at a scroll stamped with the Sunagakure symbol piled off to one side, on what had once been a receptionist's desk. “Very little. You were right to describe their Kage as proud.” Orochimaru inclined his head. “Bloody man makes mules look like Labradors.”

 

The Snake summoner unwound Aia from his wrist, transferring her to the warm curve of his neck, blanketed by his loose hair. “Taciturn, no?”

 

“An Asshole,” Mei corrected.

 

“Did he agree?”

 

“To the bounty? Reluctantly. Sasori has yet to make an appearance but he swore to keep an eye out. He made it abundantly clear he thought I was wasting his time.”

 

Orochimaru's lips pressed into a bloodless line. So long as the old Akatsuki members were...derailed, he couldn't care less about that foolish man. The third Kazekage was a strong Shinobi...but, not a wise one.

 

It wasn't much, but it had to be enough. He'd already passively ensured, just by his being born here, that Danzo didn't have access to his science, that the Sannin had never truly formed as it once had been. His absence in Konoha had affected Jiraiya and Tsunade, perhaps the most; Namikaze's brats had not suffered the same fate and Obito was far from Madara's cruel grasp.

 

He wasn't taking risks, however.

 

“What of the heretic?”

 

“Nothing yet,” Mei cast careful eyes over his figure. As usual, however, she didn't ask. The redhead always did prefer piecing together information over a clumsy interrogation and she'd long since learnt that Orochimaru was not a man to be pushed. “Any trouble out there in the Big, Bad World?”

 

Yellow eyes crinkled in the faintest smile. _More_ _than you know_.“No.”

 

“How refreshing,” Mei saluted her chopsticks to him before humour crept into the creases of her eyes, the corners of her painted lips. “Have you seen Zabuza yet?”

 

The Snake Sage resisted the urge to scoff at the predictable twist, knowing full well that Mei would pounce on the act and refuse to let it lie. “Are we playing some childish game of Chinese Whispers now?”

 

The redhead twisted in her seat, crossing legs and templed her fingers. Apparently, they were finished with any serious discussion, which had lasted all of two minutes. “Are you playing games, then? _That's_ an improvement! Surely, that poor Haku boy has suffocated over the sexual tension b-”

 

Orochimaru flicked his hair over his shoulder, not even deigning to answer. “If that’s all, Mizukage-sama, I’ll take my leave of you.”

 

His yukata and robe, loose as he liked, flared around his ankles as Orochimaru turned and strode for the door. Aia, sensing the displacement of air, curled around his throat like a necklace.

 

“You can't run forever, Oro-kun! I'll have that bloody wedding if it's the las-!”

 

He didn't slam the door. Just.

 .......................................................................................................

 

Zabuza-sama was exactly where Haku had expected him to be, tucked into their quarters with his map spread on their chipped table. The man in question loomed over it, hitai-ate off and bandages hanging limply around his neck as he marked their intended course with dark eyes.

 

“Zabuza-sama,” Haku called, shutting the door softly behind him and shifting his basket to his elbow again.

 

His master grunted to show he was listening.

 

“Do you need anything from the market?” He needed to go down to sort something for their dinner, possibly pick up extra rations if Wave was as hard done by as rumours said.

 

“Another few rolls, Haku,” calloused fingers tugged at the bandages draped around his neck to emphasise the point.

 

Nodding, Haku set his herbs by the sink before making back towards the door. He'd sort them after dinner and start the fermentation before bed-

 

Zabuza-sama inhaled before the hulking line of his shoulders, his arm stretched to trace over the map, tensed. “He's back?”

 

Haku paused also and internally marvelled at the conflicting emotions in such a simple question. Orochimaru-sama, however, _had_ touched his elbow briefly and he'd held the viper for a while; it was of no surprise that his Master, such a skilled Shinobi, could smell even the most fleeting touch.

 

“Hai, Zabuza-sama. We spoke briefly before Kisame-sama came on behalf of the Mizukage.”

 

Haku waited for a few beats but his Master made no sign to respond and, when the younger brunette risked a glance over his shoulder, his face was turned away.

 

Biting his lip, at loss for words, Haku closed the door behind him, listening to the soft click of the latch.

 

It had already started drizzling again, the sky bruised a moody smudge of charcoal greys and dusty purples. The cobblestones were slick, dotted with slippery moss, and Haku hadn't even made it to the street corner before his hair started sticking to his cheeks.

 

In hindsight, perhaps he should have tied it up.

 

What was done, was done, however, and the teen simply continued on his way to the covered market.

 

But his mind lingered on Zabuza-sama.

 

His Master was a relatively simple man. He lived for his work, for his blade, and maintained the smallest social circle possible.

 

Haku and, reluctantly, Kisame. (Who didn't take no, laughed off every swear and _enjoyed_ the impromptu ‘spars'.)

 

Mei-sama was his boss, as simple as that.

 

And Orochimaru-sama...well, Haku wasn't sure about that.

 

But, well, he could guess.

 

(He could _hope._ )

 

“Haku-kun,” A thin voice snapped the brunette from his thoughts, twisting to survey his fellow apprentice as he picked his way through the street towards him.

 

“Chōjūrō-kun,” Haku greeted the smaller boy, gaze flicking from his pink cheeks to the dampness of his shirt. “Training?”

 

Chōjūrō nodded jerkily, pale fingers reaching to fiddle with his customary goggles. “Where are you off to?” His voice was low but easily heard. Kiri was a relatively subdued village.

 

The ice nin smiled kindly, aware of how nervous the other boy became when initiating conversation. He was rather sweet. Chōjūrō may have had a year on him, but he did not look it.

 

“The market, for dinner.” Haku paused for a moment but Chōjūrō seemed a little stuck on how to continue. “We leave again shortly. Are you in the village for long, Chōjūrō-kun?”

 

“Yeah, Mei-sama has me patrolling the borders...what with Wave…”

 

Haku hummed low in his throat, blind to the pink flush that warmed the blue-haired boy's cheeks at the sound. Wave had been...troubled for a while. But the current mess had escalated very quickly and so Mei-sama had decided to extend their reach.

 

Hence, their mission the next day.

 

“I'm sure you're of great service, Chōjūrō-kun,” Brown eyes glanced over, noting the clench of his hands and how his head ducked. Chōjūrō was one of the Seven Swordsmen; to Haku, his lack of faith in his own much-earned skill was difficult to grasp.

 

But he tried to, for his...friend's-his friend's sake.

 

(He wasn't quite sure how to be friends with someone but...well, Orochimaru-sama managed it. And he liked the older boy. Maybe they _were_ friends.)

 

They walked the rest of the way to the market in silence. Quiet was natural for Shinobi but there was no professionalism or stiffness here either.

 

Haku smiled to himself, privately pleased that the older boy seemed to be comfortable with him. Or, at least, not _un_ comfortable.

 

If he was truly unhappy, Haku didn't doubt he would have darted off at the earliest opportunity. But he didn't, staying at the ice nin's side and, when they finally ducked underneath the canvas tent flaps of the covered market, following half a step behind him.

 

Browsing the dried fish selection, Haku glanced at the older boy from the corner of his eye. “I hear Kisame-sama has taken you as a training partner.”

 

Chōjūrō tangled his fingers. “Yes, although I'm not sure for how long now that Orochimaru-sama has returned to us.”

 

Absentmindedly accepting the wrapped fish, Haku furrowed his brows. “Orochimaru-sama was only gone a month, Chōjūrō-kun. If Kisame-sama did not mean to continue, he wouldn't have asked for such short notice.”

 

The Swordsman didn't reply. Haku hadn't really expected him to.

 

But, biting the inside of his cheek, he decided to try something.

 

Haku may have been...well, _raised_ by Zabuza-sama, may not have had a Genin team like most Shinobi, but he did get to see how other children interacted. All of his promotions had been in the field via his apprenticeship, but he'd been hired by enough civilians to understand behaviour.

 

Chōjūrō was comfortable with him, hopefully.

 

So, maybe-

 

“You must've impressed him, Chōjūrō-kun,” Haku allowed his eyes to warm slightly, so he'd know he wasn't being mean. “Maybe Kisame-sama thinks you could teach _him_ a thing or two...”

 

Behind his glasses, the older teen's eyes _popped_.

 

And his cheeks burned scarlet when Haku let out a soft laugh, inordinately pleased by his response...somehow.

 

There was some so... _satisfying_ about Chōjūrō's reactions, about the shy curve to his red-bitten lips, and Haku, well. Why lose progress?

 

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight, Chōjūrō-kun?”

 

Dark eyes flickered to him, meeting Haku's gaze for a fleeting second before skittering away again. Chōjūrō's brand of shyness was interesting, the contrast of soft comments and strong values, his impressive skill and his low self-esteem.

 

Haku, who knew his worth like a blade knows it's sharpness, was intrigued, to say the least.

 

“Maybe some other time, Haku-kun,” Chōjūrō sidestepped an old woman. “I wouldn't have you or Zabuza-sama host the day before you travel.”

 

Haku blinked. _Hmm..._

 

They lingered under the market canopy for another half an hour, the blue-haired teen had even taken half of Haku's burden so the brunette could browse more easily before they stepped back into the rain.

 

Chōjūrō left him at the street corner, gracing him with a sweet smile and parting wishes for his mission before leaping onto the nearest roof and disappearing into the rain.

 

With a hesitant spring to his step, Haku traced the path back home alone.

 

Only to find Orochimaru-sama leaving.

 

“Orochimaru-sama-” _what are you doing here?_

 

A hand, cool and uncaring for the damp of his yukata, briefly touched his shoulder. Over the Snake Summoner's shoulder, Zabuza-sama was burning a hole into the back of his head. He couldn't even begin to decipher his Master's expression. “Safe travels, Haku-kun.”

 

And with nought but a breath, he was gone.

 

Haku carefully stepped inside, mindful of his load and the tremulous peace. “Zabuza-sama?”

 

His Master turned away. “He came with a warning, Haku. Shinobi shouldn't be so worried.”

 

Automatically, the brunette smoothed his expression.

 

“About our mission, Zabuza-sama?” Feigning nonchalance, Haku moved to pack the supplies he'd picked up into the bags waiting by the door, tucking the meat into preservation skins and the bandages into his Master's front pocket.

 

There was a loud crackle of parchment as the map, the same from earlier, was rolled up and secured with a leather throng before, catching the movement, Haku plucked it from the air and tucked it into his own pack wordlessly. “Yeah. A few rumours about Wave, what to expect and how Mei wants to play things.”

 

He almost pointed out that the Mizukage had already mentioned such details in their debriefing the day before but, sensing the lingering bad mood from the other man's visit, knew better than to push.

 

“Has the situation changed, Zabuza-sama?”

 

The older man grunted, tossing him another pouch of senbon that Haku easily caught. He weighed the extra ammunition in his hands, mind dancing. It was the senbon he usually left behind, the cover dusty from rare usage.

 

“We may bump into some ‘allies'. Arm yourself accordingly.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- For Ray x
> 
> Title (thanks Kat!) from 'Waves Crashing on Distant Shores of Time'  
> https://youtu.be/9mvZ-FjdgLw


End file.
